


Exhaustion Makes the Mouth Grow Talkier

by suzvoy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzvoy/pseuds/suzvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That verbal filter most people have that Stiles usually ignores? Is even less effective when he's exhausted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhaustion Makes the Mouth Grow Talkier

**Author's Note:**

> MTV own them. I don't. No infringement intended, etc etc.
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely rhiannonhero :D :D :D YAY FANGIRLS \o/ \o/ \o/
> 
> Spoilers through 2x05. Stiles/Derek-ish. OMG I WROTE SOMETHING. Rated PG-13. Originally posted [here](http://suzvoy.livejournal.com/2788714.html).

It's a testament to how tired Stiles is that he doesn't even jump when he turns and catches sight of Derek Hale lurking in the shadows of his bedroom. The reflex is there, most definitely. He just doesn't have the energy for it. "Oh my God, I am so not awake enough to deal with you right now," he blurts, possibly all as one word; definitely without taking a pause for breath.

"Stiles," Derek growls, and seriously, he has to be a wolf because that's the way he says everything.

"I'm serious," Stiles warns, deliberately turning his back on Derek as he tugs off his sneakers with his toes. "I'm exhausted, what with saving your hairy ass in the pool, for _hours_ ," _hours_ , seriously, there was never going to be enough payback for that one, "being knocked out by one of your new puppies with part of my _own car_ and being jumped by another yappy newborn while trying to stop all of you from killing one of my friends, regardless of whether or not they are a huge paralysing lizard - and holy crap, _what is my life?_ \- I just-" Stiles stopped, because he wasn't lying. He was exhausted and it was all this and school and worrying about Dad and _too much._

And maybe, every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing the mechanic being crushed to death. Right in front of him. Literally unable to look away.

It said a lot about his life that being temporarily paralysed by a killer lizard that may-or-may-not-be-but-let's-face-it-probably-was Jackson wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him.

"Stiles," Derek said again, and would you listen to that? It wasn't a growl. A miracle had befallen this day. Or night.

What time was it again?

"Lay down before you fall down," Derek continued and Stiles obeyed only because he was exhausted. It had nothing to do with the timbre and authority of Derek's voice. Nothing at all.

Squirming around to get under the covers - seriously, he wasn't even going to bother taking his jeans off - Stiles stopped burrowing when he was covered completely from neck to toe. _Perfect._

And then the bed dipped behind him. Stiles' eyes, which had been in the process of blessedly sliding shut, snapped open. "Uh, what?" It took him a few moments to realise that wasn't technically a sentence.

Hale answered anyway. "You shouldn't turn your back on an Alpha." It was a warning, absolutely, but felt more like a...reminder? Almost like Derek didn't want him to get hurt or something.

He was definitely suffering from exhaustion. "Please. I'm so not scared of you anymore."

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"

Yeah, yeah, heart-rate and pulse and all that jazz. "Sure, I'm scared of wolf-face you. And big nails you. And, okay, most of you, but it's instinct; who wouldn't be? You see a predator, you panic. But the rest of the time, which is, admittedly, only like 20 per cent of the time..." He shrugged, which probably didn't show at all through the covers.

" _Stiles._ "

There it was again. "It's just that recently, I've started realising I don't need to be quite so terrified of the guy who keeps saving my life. So, you know," he yawned, "there's that."

Derek didn't say anything for a while, or took a few moments or was taking some time to groom himself - Stiles didn't know what the hell was taking so long - before responding. "Not scared of me, but still want me dead."

Stiles frowned, which actually kind of hurt. "Say what now?"

"Werewolf hearing, remember? You wanted an arrow through my head." He didn't sound hurt or offended. Stiles didn't know if Derek even could sound that way.

Stiles snorted anyway, pulling the covers closer. "I didn't _mean_ it. That's what we do, right?" Seemed obvious to him.

"What is?"

"You know," he yawned again, "pretend to hate each other. Threaten each other - okay, so you do most of that. Hit each other - you do most of that, too. And save each other, because, well, that's the kind of lives we've stumbled into. What you said in the pool - that I was saving you because I needed you to kick the kanima's scaly ass? It's bull - I don't need you. But I don't need you dead, either. There's been enough of that for both of us."

Derek was silent again. For much, much longer.

Stiles and silence got along about as well as oil and water or - well, him and Derek, most of the time. "I've had this dream, with you on my bed," he muttered, "it usually ends with you ripping my throat out." Seriously, why was he even talking?

Derek's inevitable response sounded amused. "Usually?"

And Stiles needed to stop talking _right now._ Except, he was Stiles. So that was never going to happen. "I'm just going to remind you that I shouldn't be allowed to drive in this condition, and as such I could be considered legally intoxicated through exhaustion," sounded totally plausible, "and, therefore, you should ignore anything I say."

"That'd be easy to do," Derek replied almost cheerfully (cheerful, what the hell? Stiles had never even see the guy...wolf...guy-wolf laugh), "if you didn't talk _all the damn time._ "

"Well that's easily fixed," Stiles eagerly pointed out, "there's a window right there! Feel free to go right through it!" He gestured towards it, only his arm was trapped beneath him and he ended up flopping about the bed. Definitely his suavest moment. "Why the hell are you here, anyway? Despite your general need to stalk and intimidate random passers-by."

There was a pause. "We've...worked together before," he said, which wasn't news even to Stiles, "I thought you might be able to talk Scott-"

"Into agreeing to kill Jackson? There is no way in hell I'm going to talk anyone into killing any of our friends. Even if it is Jackson." Even if Jackson treated him like dirt. _Still._ "It's the right thing to do."

"That's all I'm trying to do," Derek urged and, seriously, he sounded kind of desperate about this. "The right thing. Whether he's aware of it or not, Stiles, he's killing people. _Killing_ them. One of them right in front of you. It could've easily been you; you know that, right?"

Stiles had been the one laying there, paralysed, as the mechanic was crushed to death. He was extremely aware of that fact.

"I'm not the bad guy here," Derek said and that? That just made Stiles _laugh_.

It also made him finally shift in bed, awkwardly moving around until he was on his back, staring up at Derek who was glaring down at him.

Stiles finally said it and fuck it, he was so tired, he didn't care if Derek _was_ a werewolf. He stared him down. "Your uncle said _exactly the same thing_."

And that was enough. That was enough for Derek to suddenly be standing on the other side of the room - which, yeah, was only like four feet away, but still. Symbolism and meaning, yadda yadda. He paced back and forth, two steps in either direction, hand coming up to his mouth, looking agitated, before swinging around and pointing at Stiles. "Keep your window locked," he instructed, and then he was leaping out the window in question.

By that point, Stiles couldn't make sense of much of anything and was quite happy to stay where he was, star-fished across his comfortable, comfortable, comfortable bed.

" _Stiles,_ " Derek's voice hissed through the window and oh my God, he was literally going to hang around on Stiles' roof until the window was locked, wasn't he? Because he was exactly that kind of lunatic.

But then Stiles was kind of a lunatic himself, flailing around until the covers were off, flopping off the side of his bed and stumbling over to the window. "I am not Bella Swan!" he yelled as he slammed it shut, retrospectively glad that his dad was working late.

He caught a glimpse of a wolfish smile and teeth that were actually not threatening to bite him and - _holy crap, he'd just made Derek Hale laugh._

After he collapsed back into bed, he absolutely didn't fall asleep with a smile on his face.

*

At lunch the next day, Erica and Isaac sheepishly sat across from him and Scott. After a few moments of silent communication - Erica with Isaac conveying who knew what, him with Scott saying _What the hell??_ and _where's the nearest weapon?_ \- Erica and Isaac turned back to them and silently, solemnly, shoved their plates of curly fries towards him.

He didn't smile then, either.

Not even a little.

~FINIS


End file.
